On Parque de la Maternidad, the artists were set up in their usual spots. We’ve been coming here long enough to know what to expect on a Sunday when we stroll down Calle 60, heading from the music and assorted vendors on Santa Lucia, and then pass the painters and artisans on the next, smaller park that you approach when you’re headed to the main square.
I keep swearing off little impulse buys. When we move here, we’ll have large walls, and I want to fill them with large-scale pieces that we bring down from Connecticut. But then a small mounted digital print of an imagined cantina, or an oil of a colorful parrot, or a copy of one of those many corner plaques, will charm me. I don’t usually buy figurative art; I prefer more abstract, expressionistic pieces. Here, I don’t care. I bring them home, knowing I’ll only have to lug them back again one day. We hear getting [Read more…]